LUXURY OF LOVE

The chandeliers above the gala floor cast golden light on the sea of satin gowns and finely tailored tuxedos. Glass clinked. Perfume floated like whispers between conversations. Laughter, soft and restrained, echoed across marble floors where fashion icons and investors mingled under the illusion of elegance.

But Soren Bellefontaine didn't care about any of that.

He stood near the grand bar with one hand resting lightly on the curve of the counter, swirling the ice in his glass while pretending to listen to the man beside him talk about some art exhibit in Vienna. His lips curved in polite interest, but his eyes-warm, brown, always curious-weren't really focused on the conversation.

They were searching. Quietly. Unintentionally.

Then they found him.

Across the room, Maddox Sinclair stood by the staircase, talking with one of the event coordinators. He wore midnight black, every thread of his suit crafted with subtle silver embroidery. It didn't sparkle. It shimmered. Like him. Calm, unreadable, and too tall to blend in.

He wasn't laughing. He never did in places like this. His mouth stayed in that usual half-line-too serious, too elegant. But he looked composed, like he belonged here. As if this entire place had been built around him.

Soren's gaze lingered longer than it should have.

He looked away quickly, biting the inside of his cheek.

"You're not listening, are you?" the man beside him asked with a dry chuckle.

Soren turned with a soft laugh. "No. But you knew that."

The man smiled and excused himself, and Soren exhaled. He set his drink down and let his fingers run across the smooth marble surface of the bar, lost in thought for just a second.

Maddox was always like that at events. Quiet. Observing. Aloof. But Soren noticed the details-the subtle shift in his eyes when he was bored, the way his fingers tightened around his glass when someone said something he didn't like.

He always noticed Maddox more than he meant to.

"Your halo's slipping."

That voice-low and cool-came just behind him, and Soren turned slightly, already knowing who it was. Maddox had a way of appearing without warning, like a ghost in tailored silk.

Soren raised an eyebrow, that teasing edge slipping into his tone without effort. "Then fix it for me."

Maddox's lips twitched. "Not my job. Try your PR manager."

Soren scoffed lightly. "You really know how to flatter."

Maddox took a place beside him at the bar, his height making even the tall counter feel small. He didn't order anything. Just stood there, too comfortable in his silence. They didn't have to fill space between them with meaningless words. They never did.

"You're not working tonight?" Soren asked eventually, swirling what was left of his drink.

Maddox's gaze swept across the room once, slow. "Just watching. It's good to know who's pretending."

Soren glanced at him. "And what am I doing?"

Maddox didn't look at him directly. "Entertaining."

Soren laughed softly. "That's called being social, Maddie. You should try it."

"I do," Maddox said. "With you."

There was no flirtation in his voice. Just something quiet. Familiar. Honest.

Soren's fingers froze for half a second around his glass. Then he masked it with a small smile and took a sip. "Lucky me."

Maddox said nothing more.

Silence settled again, but not an uncomfortable one. The kind that wrapped itself between them naturally. They'd always been like this-close in a way that didn't need explanation. Close in a way that made people stare and ask, are they? but never get a real answer.

Soren sometimes wondered that too. Only sometimes. Mostly at night.

"Did you see the dress that girl wore on the red carpet?" Soren asked, changing the subject. "The one with the gold cape? It looked like she was about to fly away."

Maddox hummed in agreement. "Too heavy. She couldn't sit down in it."

"I know. I made it."

That earned him a real look from Maddox. Not surprised. Just... amused.

"You knew it was impractical."

"Of course." Soren smirked. "But she looked unforgettable. That's the point."

Maddox leaned on the counter slightly, closer now. "Sometimes I wonder if you want the designs to be worn, or worshipped."

Soren tilted his head. "Worship looks better on a runway."

Their eyes met for a moment too long.

Soren looked away first.

Behind them, the noise of the gala continued-louder now, a few socialites waving toward Soren. One called his name across the room with a perfect white smile.

He waved back, but his smile faded the moment he turned around again.

Maddox was still watching him. Not staring. Just... observing. As if trying to read what Soren wasn't saying.

Soren cleared his throat and tapped his ring against the side of his glass. "So, are we leaving early or staying till someone passes out?"

Maddox shrugged. "You decide. You always do."

And that-oddly-made Soren quiet.

He looked down at the bar, lips parting as if he wanted to ask something, then thought better of it. After a pause, he gave a light laugh and gestured toward the waiting crowd.

"Then I'll mingle. Don't stand too still. You might get mistaken for a mannequin."

Maddox raised a brow. "Then stop dressing me so well."

Soren didn't reply. Just smiled faintly and walked into the crowd.

Maddox watched him go. He always did.

Soren moved through the crowd like he was born for it-fluid, graceful, magnetic in that white satin that hugged every right place. The golden lighting made his skin glow, and his soft laughter rose just loud enough to stir envy in anyone watching.

Maddox's jaw tensed. Not visibly. Not enough for anyone to notice. But he felt it.

He hated this part of the night. The part where Soren wasn't beside him. Where he had to watch from a distance as strangers leaned too close, asked too many questions, stared too long.

He shouldn't care.

They were friends. Always had been. Nothing more.

At least, that's what Soren believed.

Maddox's eyes followed his every step-how Soren's fingers danced when he gestured, how he laughed too politely when someone said something not even remotely funny. Maddox could tell when he was bored. He always could.

Then he saw him.

Some tall, blonde designer from Milan. Luca somethin stepped into Soren's space with a little too much confidence. His hand landed casually on Soren's lower back, fingers spreading just slightly, and he leaned in to say something close to Soren's ear.

Maddox's grip tightened around his glass.

Soren blinked. The flirtation hadn't caught him off-guard but he was used to it, there was a slight shift in his expression. A little less playful. A little more... awkward.

The man laughed, clearly trying to be charming, and said something else. Whatever it was made Soren raise a brow, smile, and tilted his head, but he didn't move away. His hand rested politely on the man's arm. That was all it took.

Maddox moved.

He didn't make a scene. Didn't charge forward or say a word.

He simply stepped closer into the light, still and silent, and let his eyes lock onto the man like a wolf eyeing prey.

Cold. Calm. Clear.

Back. Off.

The Milanese designer paused. His smile faltered. A second of hesitation, then another. Soren noticed too, his gaze flicking past the man's shoulder and landing directly on Maddox, whose expression hadn't changed.

He wasn't smiling.

He didn't need to.

And just like that, the man laughed again, he was nervous this time and took a half step back, adjusting his cufflink to cover the retreat.

Soren stood frozen for a beat, lips slightly parted, staring across the room,ost especially at Maddox.